An Impromptu Thanksgiving

An Impromptu Thanksgiving.

BY PETER MCARTHUR.

Copyright, 1899, by Peter McArthur.

In the mixed multitude that followed John Galt, the novelist, when he established the Canada company in 1823, there were representatives of every walk in life. But on the shore of Lake Huron a stern equality was maintained. The weaver turned farmer was the equal of the adventurous son of the laird, and, taking these things into consideration. Magistrate Phelan had no cause to wonder at the tumult created in the settlement when he banqueted the chief men on turkey in his dining room and fed the ordinary people on boiled pork in his barn.

Chief among the stall fed guests was Gideon McPherson, a man who was in no sense of the word "ordinary." On the previous year he had been overlooked by Tom McNulty and had broken the spell of the evil eyes by blacking them. In consequence he considered himself the equal of all men and the superior of most and resented savagely the slight that had been put upon him. To all his friends he told the story of his wrongs in guttural Gaelic or broken English and swore a great oath to be revenged on his enemy.

A couple of weeks after this irritating occurrence Tiger Dunlop, that glorious literary rowdy who had been punchmaker Christopher North and the heroes of the "Noctes Ambrosianae," arrived in the neighborhood and heard of the trouble. He immediately visited Gideon and learned the story from his own lips.

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"Div yeh know fat day will be set apart for Thanksgiving? Oor fayther will be wantin to know."

The doctor was on the point of replying that Gideon was in no condition to offer thanks, but an idea occurred to him, and with a characteristic chuckle he said instead:

"I will find out when I am in Galt if the governor has made his proclamation, and I will send you word." Gideon's fast began from the moment he resolved to act on the Tiger's suggestion, but as he had eaten a hearty supper nothing worth recording happened until the next day. On the following morning he wakened with the birds, but be immediately thought of his enemy and did not get up. Instead he lay where he was and meditated on the wish he would make against Phelan. His appetite was sharp, and he thought It would be a sweet revenge to see his insulter at his door begging for a bite to eat. While he was revolving this delightful prospect in his mind bis daughters were preparing the breakfast. He heard Betsy raking the ashes for live coals. Then he heard her blowing on them while the fire crackled in the kindling, and presently a delightful odor began to penetrate the rickety partition that separated his bedroom from the kitchen.

They were having fried ham for breakfast, with buckwheat pancakes and gravy!

Gideon elapsed his hands over his complaining stomach and with Scotch stubbornness suppressed a groan. His wide nostrils drew in the delicious odor with every breath and drove him frantic. It was impossible to lie in bed and endure it. so he jumped up and began to dress so as to have something to occupy his mind. After a time he appeared in the kitchen, where Betsy was cleaning the breakfast dishes. Betsy bade him good morning, and he replied with a surly nod. The odor of the ham was still in the air, and he was beginning to feel weak from hunger. Though he would have refused anything to eat. he was unreasonably angry because she offered him none. But he refrained from scolding, and as he could not go out he sought forgetfulness in reading. Because of the evil nature of his fast he could not read his Gaelic Bible, so he ferreted up a bundle of Dr. Dunlop's political pamphlets and slowly spelled out as much of their meaning as he could. Betsy in the meantime dressed a chicken for dinner. She put it on to stew ; over the open fireplace and made a light batter for doughboys. Gideon talked constantly and watched every movement with wolfish eyes. The odor from the bubbling pot set every nerve in his rebellious digestive system quivering, and when Ann and Sarah carne home for their dinner it was a torture to see their enjoyment of the meal. He never realized before what ravenous and expensive eaters they were. Finally his anger broke loose, and as he scolded in Gaelic his iron gray whiskers bristled with rage.

"Doughboys with saleratus in them, and saleratus costing $1 a pound! Is it any wonder I haven't been able to make the last payments on the farm with such extravagant goings on? You used to be satisfied to cook with corncob ashes, but now nothing but saleratus will suit your appetites - saleratus! And you're eating white bread as if wheat wasn't worth $3 a bushel and salt—salt with every mouthful, though it costs $20 a barrel."

"We all work hard enough, father, to get our board," said Betsy, "and if your heart was not full of foolish anger you would be glad to see us eating."

"Silence!" he commanded in a voice that made them all tremble, for he was a true Scotch father, and his word was law. Then, feeling ashamed of himself, he set them the example of being silent.

For Slipper the irritating Betsy cooked potato cakes, Gideon's favorite dish, and as they browned in the oven pan before the fire the smell of them made him pace up and down the room like a madman. Betsy and her sisters were truly sorry for him, but he was bringing it all on himself, and their sympathies were not as deep as they might have been. They ate their potato cakes and cold ham without undue ostentation, however, for they really feared their father's temper. When they had finished their supper, they stole away to bed, and Gideon did the same.

It was in vain that he tried to take his mind from the gnawing in his stomach, and his sleep was broken by wild dreams, for a starving man will see visions, be he fool or a mahatma. At first he dreamed over the wild voyage of 40 days that brought him from Scotland to the wilderness. The waves were tossing about him wearily, and then came the terrible news that cholera had broken out among the passengers. Horror piled upon horror until at last a huge ship bore down upon them, cut their schooner in two and impaled Gideon through the stomach with its bowsprit He awakened with a scream that brought his daughters to his side, but lie sternly bade them return to bed. After this he slept from sheer exhaustion and did not waken again until the ham was being fried for breakfast. The savory odor of it was a hundredfold more maddening than on the previous morning. He stuffed the coverlet in his mouth to keep himself from groaning aloud and meditated on his wish against Phelan. By this time he was beginning to doubt his ability to think of anything savage enough to do the wretch justice.

In the early morning Tiger Dunlop's servant appeared with a huge basket.

"My master sent me," he said, "to tell you that he has just learned that today is the day appointed for Thanksgiving by the governor and that he is coming to dinner and will bring a few friends to see Mr. McPherson, and he wants you to have this cooked for him."

So saying he laid on the table a dressed sucking pig, with a loaf of dry bread, a bundle of onions, a bunch of sage, a little roll of fresh butter and a peck of apples.

What a sucking pig it was! Its little back was so broad you could have poured a cup of water in the hollow of it without spilling a drop, but it was by no means all fat. When Betsy had admired the peerless suckling and her father had dilated on the honor that was being done to them by the Tiger and his friends in coming to have their Thanksgiving dinner with him, the other two girls were called from the field to help prepare for the visitors. The compliment implied by the dinner diverted Gideon's mind from his relentless hunger and kept him from noticing too painfully the hurried lunch that was taken by his daughters.

But his peace was short lived. Betsy crumbled the loaf of dry bread, peeled and chopped the onions, powdered the sage leaves, and then with the fresh butter mixed the dressing. When the little cherub was filled to his utmost capacity. they hung him before a great fire in the open fireplace over the dripping pan.

"Come," said Betsy to her father. "Won't you help us by keeping the pig turning?" It was cruel, but Gideon could not resist. The crackling was already beginning to give its smell aright, and, though be would fain fly, he was attracted toward the chimney. Presently the onions penetrated the broiling sides and added their powerful odor to the torture. Then the daughters, as cruel as those of old Lear, hung a pot of apples on the crane to make apple sauce and put a great Ioaf of bread into the Dutch oven.

What a revel of odors now filled the old house! The appetite of an anchorite would have been tempted, so what must it have been to the starving Gideon, who was at all times a hearty feeder? He had to put forth a great effort of will to keep his under jaw snapped up and to avoid drooling. Then his wretched daughters capped the climax by putting a score or two of fine potatoes to bake in the coals. By this time Phelan and the wish were forgotten. Gideon could think of nothing but the crackling pig, the potatoes and the hot bread, and he was almost wandering in his mind. The table was loaded with a feast that was plentiful even for those lavish days. Everything was done to a turn, he had an appetite sharpened by two days' hunger, and at last he jumped from his stool with a cry like a famished wild animal.

"Bring me the butcher knife." he shouted, "and the big horn spoon!"

With one slash and a savage twist he wrenched a ham from the suckling and with another stroke disemboweled it of its rich dressing. It was in vain that his daughters told him that the Tiger was coming up the lane with his friends, Colonel Van Egmond, Captain Dunlop, Colonel Prince. Sheriff Hyndman and half a dozen others of equal note in the province. He was deaf to everything except the Macedonian cry of his stomach, and when they arrived they were convulsed with laughter, for the Tiger had induced them to come by telling of his trick, and they were ready for a Thanksgiving dinner, even though the authenticity of the proclamation was open to grave doubts.

"Stop, mon," cried the Tiger to Gideon, "or ye'll burst! Here, take some fuskey to tone yer stammach."

After dinner the refreshed Gideon told them of his prowess in overcoming the spell of the evil eye, and before they left he was so proud of having entertained such notable guests and being complimented by them that his heart was full of thankfulness, and he had nothing but good wishes for all men, and particularly for such inferior people as Phelan and his aristocrats. As the news of the real Thanksgiving day never reached him when it was proclaimed, he never had cause to doubt the sincerity of his humorous friend, the Tiger.